


Pickle

by peggys



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Baseball Team AU, Highschool AU, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 14:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16160489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peggys/pseuds/peggys
Summary: Bucky's been behind the plate for Steve for every pitch he's thrown since the fifth grade. Now, they're seniors, and they're finding themselves, but not without a little bit of confusion and pain.





	1. Chapter 1

Steve winds up. He lets out his breath and furrows his brows as he pulls up his leg, launching himself onto his left foot, hurling the ball towards the catcher, Bucky Barnes, Steve’s best friend and the guy who’s been catching for him since fifth grade. The pitch hits the bottom left corner of the strike zone, although just fast, low, and inside enough for the batter to miss it, making that Steve’s fourth three-pitch strikeout in two innings.

Two outs down now, one to go. His eyes are unwaveringly focused on the center of Bucky’s mitt. Another deep breath, another wind up, and another perfect strike, and the whole team knows that they’ve got this in the bag. 

* * *

 

The score’s 4-1 in the bottom of the ninth, and Steve’s sure that he won’t be of much help in the hitting department at the moment, although he’s been fourth in the lineup since he joined the team four years ago. His pitching arm’s tired. His shoulder’s already popped a few times, but there are two outs already and the bases are loaded.

Steve’s not built like a baseball player; never has been. He’s got muscular arms attached to broad shoulders, athletic legs, a tiny waist, and an absolutely shredded torso. In fact, Coach McCarthy, from the football team, had told him freshman year that he’d make a great quarterback one day, but Steve turned that down and chose baseball, of course. It’s always been baseball for him. He’s been playing since kindergarten—well, tee-ball, but he’d always insisted that the coaches pitch to him instead of let him hit of off the tee.

Steve steps up to the plate and digs his back foot into the dirt, bringing his bat behind and above his right shoulder. He knows this pitcher. He knows that he always throws a fastball first.  _ Always _ . The pitcher winds up and lets go of the ball. Too low. Steve lets it fly past him, hearing it slap the catcher’s glove and return to the pitcher’s in just a moment. He takes a breath, rotating the bat in a circle with his right hand before getting back into his position, knees bent, eager hands ready to whack one past the outfielders, eyes fixed on the ball and the ball only.

The next pitch comes right down the middle, although a little outside, and with a swing and a crack of the bat, Steve’s sprinting to first.

“ _ Home _ , Steve!” He hears Coach Harrison shout, and he looks to where he hit it as he rounds the base. Over the outfielders’ heads; they’re still running for it. He speeds up, touching second, and they’ve got the ball now. His legs move him faster than he ever thought they could when he gets to third and he doesn’t look back anymore as he slides into home.

The catcher’s glove comes down on his wrist and he stays put, waiting to hear the umpire make the call. Everybody’s silent, and Steve’s sure he can hear his own heart pounding in his chest.

“HE’S SAFE!” Steve smiles before pushing himself off of the ground, jogging into the dugout, where the team is cheering.

“Nice hit, kid.” Bucky flashes a smile at him and claps a hand onto his shoulder. “Just keep doin’ that the rest of the season and we’re set for the championship.”

Steve smiles and unvelcroes his dirtied batting gloves, pulling them--as well as his helmet--off and shoving them into his bag. He sits on the bench, taking his water bottle from next to him and having a sip from it, slowing his breathing and swallowing the water, which feels like an oasis for his dried throat.

Coach steps into the dugout, ruffling Steve’s sweat-soaked hair. “Great job out there, Rogers.”

“Thanks, Coach.” Steve smiles. Coach almost never compliments people, especially not Steve. He’s always pushing him to be the best he can be, because he has potential to do great things and, “in the MLB, there’s no room for mistakes”.

He stands and takes his bat from the rack, shoving it onto his bag along with his other things, digging out the keys to his car from the smaller pocket on the side, also pulling out his phone and stuffing it into his back pocket. He turns to Bucky. “You need a ride?”

Bucky nods, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Please.”

“You wanna stay the night?” Bucky spends a lot of night’s at Steve’s, preferring it over his own house, where his alcoholic dad wails on him any chance he gets. 

“Only if it’s okay with your mom.” They begin to walk to Steve’s pale blue 1997 Toyota Camry together.

“It’s  _ always  _ okay with my mom. You know that already.” Steve reminds him, unlocking the car and sitting down in the driver’s seat, taking his phone out of his pocket and tossing his bag into the back, where Bucky’s lands as well. They both buckle in and Steve pulls the car out of the parking lot, swinging by Bucky’s house first so that he can drop off his baseball bag and pack clothes for the night and the next morning.

He situates himself back in the passenger’s seat of the small car when he’s finished inside and Steve heads only a few streets away to his tiny house that only him and his mother reside in. His dad left when he was young. Neither of them like to speak of it.

“Mom! I’m home! Bucky’s gonna spend the night here, ‘kay?”

Sarah Rogers steps into the living room, where Steve and Bucky have just entered the front door. “Hey, sweetie.” She steps over to Steve and he tilts his head down as she stands on her tip-toes to plant a kiss to his cheek. “Hi, James.” She kisses his cheek as well. He’s always been like another son to her. She cooks, does laundry, and cleans for him. Not only does she not mind, but she doesn’t expect anything in return and she simply insists on him letting her treat him how he should’ve been treated when he was growing up. “How was the game?” She takes a step back to look at them and she smiles hopefully.

“Really good.” Steve answers as both of the boys kick off their cleats.

“Your son over here hit a clean homer straight over right field.” Bucky tells her and her face lights up with a grin.

“That’s my boy.” She says, her smile wide. “Some leftovers from the other night in the fridge—chicken and rice—if you boys’re hungry.” She reminds them before she turns her left wrist towards her face and tilts her head down to read her watch, pushing her glasses up by the side of the frame as they slide down her nose just a little bit. “I’m going to head off to bed, it’s getting late.”

Steve puts his chin to his chest, knowing what she’ll do. She kisses the top of his head and he looks at her again. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” He answers. Bucky does the same that Steve did, and Ms. Rogers kisses his head as well. 

“And I love you too.” Sarah tells him.

“And I love you.” Bucky reminds her, pulling his head back up and smiling at her.

“Great job at the game tonight, both of you, I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Steve shakes his head to let her know that it’s okay, apologies aren’t necessary. “Goodnight. Sleep well. Don’t go to bed too late.” That’s the last thing she says before she steps down the hall to her bedroom, closing the door softly. 

Bucky chuckles a little bit. She always says that, and he’s almost one hundred percent sure that neither him nor Steve has listened to the last part of it. “You wanna order a pizza?”

“Yeah. You gonna order?” Steve asks. Bucky nods and takes his phone out from his pocket. “I’m gonna shower really quick, okay?” Buck gives him another nod and calls the pizza place once Steve’s out of the room, sitting himself down on the couch and placing the order for a large cheese pizza and a large order of fries while he waits for Steve to finish so that he can use the shower afterwards.

Steve comes downstairs ten minutes later, wearing nothing but thin, grey sweatpants. His towel’s draped over his shoulders and he’s using the end of it to rub his fairly short, blond hair dry. Bucky keeps his eyes glued to the TV, playing lowly as a background noise to his thoughts. “Shower’s free.”

Bucky nods and stands up from the couch. “Thanks.” He says as he steps past Steve, up the stairs and into the bathroom, where he locks the door before turning the handle on the shower.

Steve sits on the couch, taking the remote from the coffee table and turning up the volume on the television that Bucky hadn’t been watching. He waits patiently for his friend to sit on the cushion next to him and for the pizza delivery person to ring the doorbell. 

Just as Bucky’s making his way downstairs, wearing a navy blue cotton shirt that hugs his biceps and sweatpants nearly identical to Steve’s, the familiar ding of the doorbell echoes through the house. Steve stands before he takes the crumpled cash that they piled onto the coffee table and answers the door. 

The girl delivering the food notices Steve right away. “Hey, Steve!” She smiles. Bucky identifies the familiar voice as Katherine Johnson from his marketing class. Steve and her have hooked up a few times; Bucky only knows that because she’s hooked up with him too.

“Hey, Katherine, how are you?” Steve asks as she hands him the pizza and in return, he places the money into her outstretched hand.

“I’m good, how about you?” She repeats back to him.

“I’m doin’ alright.” He answers and she steps closer to the door, looking up at Steve; dreamily, Bucky notices. “I’m sure that you have more work to do, but it was nice seein’ you.” He says.

“It was nice seeing you too.” She glances to Bucky behind Steve as he’s pushing his damp hair off of his forehead. “Bye, Bucky.” She waves gently.

Bucky waves back and half-smiles. “Bye, Kat.”

She turns back to the shirtless blond in front of her. “Bye, Steve. Enjoy your food, guys. Have a nice night.” She grins before stepping down the stairs.

Steve closes the door and puts the box on the coffee table, sitting down on the couch as Bucky does the same. There’s a comfortable silence as they dig into the pie and lean back into the couch, flipping on the TV as they eat together.

Bucky notices how large Steve’s arms are, and how defined his abs are, and his chiseled his jaw his, and—

“I’m gonna head to sleep, I’m exhausted.” Steve says as he stands and pulls Bucky from his thoughts. He picks up his plate before starting to walk to the kitchen, turning to Bucky as he reaches the connecting doorway between the two rooms. “You all set? You know where all the extra pillows and blankets are?” He asks.

Buck nods. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Alright, you can wake me up if you need anything.” Steve offers.

“Thanks, dude. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Steve puts his plate in the sink before going to his room, and Bucky hears the door click closed before he puts his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. 

He takes a deep breath and tries to unthink his thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky wakes up the next morning before Steve does. His leg’s sticking out of the thin blanket that he slept with and the TV’s still on, the volume almost too low to hear. He turns over and grabs his phone from where he left it the night before, charging face down on the side table. He has a plethora of notifications, none of which he’s interested in looking at for longer than it takes him to scroll through them on his lockscreen.

He’s glad that the house is silent. He hardly ever gets time to himself. He leans back and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes although he’s wide awake. He thinks that he can maybe will himself back to sleep. It’s too early for a Sunday morning, but he knows he isn’t going to get anymore rest, so he turns on his side and takes the remote from the coffee table, pressing the volume up button until he can hear the television clearly again. He watches the TV, bored and unentertained as his mind wanders to last night and how he’d caught himself in those particular thoughts again.

Bucky isn’t exactly a womanizer, but he’s gone through his fair share of girlfriends and hookups over the years. Lately, he hasn’t been interested in dates, or relationships, or anything like that. At least, not with girls. 

And it scares him, if he was being honest with himself. It scares the living shit out of him to even consider the possibility of crushing on Steve, his best friend of almost fifteen years. It absolutely horrifies him to think about being gay. The word has never even crossed his mind in regards to himself before, and all of a sudden, he feels alone and scared sick to his stomach. Tears sting at his eyes and he doesn’t know why everything’s whirling around in his head so fast or why all he can focus on is the dull ache in the very center of his chest that’s telling him that something’s wrong, but he doesn’t know what to do about it.

He buries his face in the couch pillow that he slept on and lets everything happen. He lets the fabric catch the tears once pooled up in his eyes that are now falling out, and he lets himself think of Steve, and how he feels something toward him that he just can’t describe. He lets his body shake as he silently cries, and he tries not to, he tries so hard, but now that it’s happening he can’t stop. He hates himself and he hates crying and he just wants it to be over. He wants the dust to settle as soon as possible and he wants everything to be okay; how it was before he had to grow up.

Steve comes down the stairs a good twenty minutes later to Bucky asleep on the couch, passed out after his breakdown, which Steve doesn’t and hopefully won’t ever know about. He makes two bagels, waking up Bucky and setting it down on the coffee table in front of him when it’s toasted and covered in cream cheese. Bucky mumbles a tired, “thank you,” before starting to eat, hardly even able to look at his friend sitting next to him.

“You sleep okay?” Steve asks him as he leans back into the cushions and turns his head toward Bucky.

“Yeah, I was fine. How about you?” Everything that he thought about earlier is eating away at him and he still doesn’t know how to feel about it. It’s like he knew about it before, but it’s finally pushing its way into reality and there’s no denying it anymore. That’s the scariest part for Bucky is that everything has to change now, and he isn’t sure if it’s for the better or worse yet. He knows one thing, though, and that’s that he can’t tell Steve.

“I slept well.” Steve answers and continues to eat his breakfast, looking back at the TV while he does. Bucky swallows thickly and he’s suddenly not hungry. There’s a rock sitting in his stomach and tears filling up his eyes, so he makes his excuse to leave the room.

“Gotta use the bathroom.” He mumbled, making an effort to not let Steve see his face as he stepped out of the living room and into the bathroom, closing the door and locking it. He sat on the closed lid of the toilet seat, whispering a harsh “Jesus Christ” as he wiped his eyes.

His throat is tight as he swallows any noises that threaten to push past his lips. He knows he has to tell Steve, and the thought alone elicits more cries from him. He sniffles, his fingers pushing his eyes underneath his closed eyelids as if wiping away the tears will stop the sobbing.

He’d thought before that maybe these were passing thoughts, that they were insignificant and he could continue to be fake happy until how he really feels doesn’t matter anymore. Just until he graduates. But that isn’t the case, and his tears fall down to his lips in established streams on his cheeks. They taste salty and they’re full of fear; full of regret and the inability to anticipate what the near future holds.

He hears three sudden but soft knocks on the door and sniffles one last time. “I’ll be out in a minute.” Bucky says, standing up and looking at himself in the mirror, his eyes and cheeks red and puffy. Around his eyes are still wet, and he pulls up the bottom of his t-shirt to wipe everything away.

“Are you okay, James?” It’s Sarah’s gentle voice that surprises him from the other side, and Bucky knows he won’t be hide what just happened from her. He twists the knob and pulls the door open. She reaches up and puts her hand on his cheek, brushing away a tear that he only now realized he’d missed. “Let’s go to my room and talk, okay?” Bucky nods and she leads him down the hallway, closing the door behind her as they both step in. “What’s wrong?” She sits on the side of her bed and pats the spot next to her, gesturing for him to sit down as well. He sits and looks down at his hands in his lap.

“Can I tell you something?” He finally asks.

Sarah nods.

“You can’t tell anybody. Not even Steve.” His eyes meet hers—worn and tired—while he tries to force out his words. He can’t say it. His brain won’t let him. His throat won’t make any noise and his lips refuse to move.

“Whatever it is, it’s okay.” Sarah says genuinely, breaking the long pause. “You can tell me anything.”

He waits for another moment before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, afraid of crying again. “I’m gay.”

There’s a ringing in his ears that starts right after he lets that out, and his mind’s rushing a million miles an hour, but it feels like he can finally breath. There are no longer voices in the back of his head reminding him of how terrible everything is and how terrible everything’s going to be.

He opens his eyes, filled with tears that he just now notices; they border his vision, but he doesn’t bother to blink them away.

Next thing he knows, Sarah’s small arms are wrapped around his torso, squeezing him tightly. “I’m glad you told me.” She rubs his back as he returns the embrace. “Everything’s gonna be just fine, James. I promise.”

“But you can’t tell Steve, okay?” Bucky reminds her, not even wanting to think about what might happen if his friend finds out.

“I won’t.” She says, pulling away from him and standing up, kissing his forehead. “Don’t worry.”

He gives her a small smile before getting up himself, following her out of the room. 

Bucky heads back down the hallway, getting back in his spot next to Steve on the couch and the all-too-loud TV acts as background noise for all of the emotions surging through his body and his mind at this very moment.


End file.
